The Seer
Page 29
Sitting beside him in the drawing room, Tammie was nonplussed about the plaques. “It beats a kick in the pants, but it’s not something we can use to pay the bills, is it? I suppose I can impress the ladies with the medal, take it from the plaque and wear it when I go about my day, but most will just think I look like a prat and secretly I’ll agree. I didn’t do so much on this case anyway. I do miss having you two as roommates, though, but I would like to ask why I came out that one morning and the curtain was down in the window.”
“You don’t want to know,” Jesco said, and she grimaced. “How is Laeric? Have you seen him?”
“Barely. Now he’s got those bodies in the fields to work. He was there at the station when they brought in Torrus Kodolli, however. That man! I heard his buttoned-up lawyers had a hissy fit at the judge for him being denied bail. He’s old, he’s frail, he’s not dangerous, they bleated. It was all the bodyguards’ fault and not his! But the judge considers him a flight risk, not to mention the corpses still coming out of the soil, so he can cool his heels in a jail cell and wait for trial. Also, Dircus Dolgange filed for divorce. He’s looking at the ruin of his business, his wife distributing rucaline right under his nose. But Kyrad Naphates is coming out of this smelling like roses.”
Jesco had seen her picture in the paper, though he had not read the article. “I’m still sorry she lost that liaison position.”
“Don’t be. She’s not. She said that she would just go for it again next time. That’s politics. And now she’s got a legion of women who know her name and are outraged on her behalf, because Morgan Kodolli gave a statement before his lawyers muzzled him that it was basically all her fault for spurning him ages ago. She owed him. So a woman has to accept a proposal from any man who offers one just because she’s afraid that he might try to implicate her in a murder far off in the future? Should I walk around all worried-like that the lordling with the squashed nose is even now plotting against me? That’s insane. Funny, that man.”
“The lordling?”
“Morgan. He looks so mild-mannered on the outside but you delve into his brain’s workings and see that he’s missing a heap of gears. His sentence won’t be as long since he didn’t stab you or the courier personally, or kill Quay or order him killed or have anything to do with the rucaline. But he’s ruined all the same, his son and daughter and father will be in prison for the rest of their lives, and good riddance to the whole lot of them.” She wrapped her hand in her sleeve and swatted Jesco’s covered arm. “You owe me curtains, the two of you. Ugh.”
He hung the plaque on the wall in his room but got tired of the sun reflecting off the glass. Removing it to his desk drawer, he forgot about it. Three weeks had passed since the train when there was another murder for him to work. Neither detective was Scoth. The thralls upon the evidence at the crime site were so intense that they landed him in his wheelchair for several days. Gavon tended him well until he could get about with a cane.
He had only just graduated to walking about on his own when Sfinx hurtled down the hallway early one evening. “Sir! Sir! A carriage is here for you! There must be another murder, sir!” He sprinted away, shouting to a friend.
Jesco had been on his way to the dining hall for dinner. He was sorry to have another case when he had just gotten back to his feet. Looking down the hallway to the front doors, he saw a regular carriage parked there instead of a police carriage. Then his heart jumped. Scoth was coming inside. He was just using his new personal carriage for the case.
He looked good, as he always did. But he wasn’t in his usual garb for work. Dressed in a casual suit, he’d warred with his hair yet could only claim a partial victory. A cowlick had sprouted up above his left ear. Whatever the case was, it had caught him out while doing something else.
“Is the destination card for the asylum really named Prick Pick-up?” Jesco called.
“It is,” Scoth said irascibly. His smile waxed and waned, and he stopped before Jesco. Strangely, he looked a little nervous. “It’s new. It’s all new. I made sure of it.”
“The carriage? I should think so. The old one was smashed in the riverbed.”
“No.” Scoth ran his hand through his hair in agitation. Cowlicks sprung up all over. “We’ve got a table reserved at The Seven Temptations’ restaurant, so hop into something more presentable and let’s go.”
There wasn’t a case. He had come to the asylum to take Jesco out. Just as he began to answer, Scoth said, “And you should bring some of your things for the next few days, too. I’ve got it all set up at my house, new sheets and everything else I could think of. And there are these . . .”
He pulled out a pair of theater tickets from his pocket. The showing was tomorrow night. “It’s a private box. You don’t have to worry about people touching you by mistake while getting to their seats. Then I thought the next day we could drive out to Whenx to see the autohorse races in their brand-new stadium. Place bets, have a mug of ale and a bag of popcorn.” His nervousness intensified. “You don’t have to do any of that. It’s only if you want to. I just have some days off and I thought . . .”
Jesco loved this man. “I want to go.”
“You don’t have to say that only to placate me-”
“I’m not. Laeric, I really want to go.” Jesco laughed, having never wanted to do something so much in his life. Taking off his gloves, he cupped Scoth’s cheeks and looked straight into his eyes. “I can’t wait.”
“Sure?”
“Very, very sure.” He tipped Scoth’s head and pressed a kiss to his cowlicks. Then Scoth offered his arm and Jesco took it, and they walked away together.
THE END
Also by Jordan Reece:
The Tracker
Jordan Reece also writes as Macaulay C. Hunter:
The Zombies
The Sigils
The Rune Series
Find more titles: pandaloonery.com